Coyote Fat & Average Looking

Most of the physical activities we decide upon participating in require little clothing. The average roller derby uniform consists of short shorts, fishnets or some sort of stocking, and a shirt or tank top. Burlesque and sideshow might add a corset, garter belt and ruffled panties into the mix. Our other favorite activities might involve more clothes. Or less. Our current and latest foray into the world of obscure athletics begs for bare legs and arms and for the more advanced student: platform stilettos and bare everything.

We are beginners. We’ll keep to the shorts and t’s. Thanks. Perverts.

After reading about a push for pole dancing to become an Olympic sport, we knew we had to get in on some hot, girl-on-pole action. We started by doing what any pair of straight, classy broads would do: watch dozens upon dozens of YouTube videos of incredible women spinning and climbing their way to victory at various pole dancing national and international championships.

We knew dozens of gyms that boast more sex appeal than physical fitness (we’re looking at you, Equinox!) offer pole dancing classes, but couldn’t believe that it might be near impossible to find a local class for beginners. Preferably where we might not be surrounded by booty shorts and breast implants. Not that we find anything wrong with either of those things, but for two plus-sized, moderately physically fit girls in their late twenties we didn’t think our witty and sarcastic sense of humor would propel us around the pole with the same effect as body oil on bare, perfectly waxed skin.

Wellness on the Green in Morristown, New Jersey, is the closest studio in the area to offer various levels of pole dancing classes. For twenty dollars each we got our one hour introduction to the pole from Kim. She taught us the basics: firemen, martini and cabaret spins. There was climbing, spinning, and sliding. Posing seductively. And, finally, the Freudian slip of, "Roll over. Now play with yourselves!"

Mythbuster Moment: The bruises on strippers are not from their pimps or dealers.

Then there was the pole burn from the friction of metal on bare skin. And the excruciating muscle aches the next morning that made standing and sitting the most difficult part of the day. Aubri put it best:

"I feel it when I use the toilet. Like getting there is a quick plop down. Getting up? Well, let's just say I seriously considered finishing my novel."